Battle To Be Won
by PhantomPotterGirl
Summary: Sometimes, even the worst of enemies, care. Brick/Blossom, one-sided oneshot. If you squint really, really hard.


A/N: I don't even know where this came from. Just bear with me at the moment-I'm far too lazy for my own good. A result of too many Powerpuff Girls/Rowdyruff Boys fics got to me. Even I admit-I used to ship Reds, Blues and Greens when I was a kid. Oh the shame...

Disclaimer: Don't own.

* * *

><p><strong>"Battle To Be Won"<strong>

**by: PhantomPotterGirl**

* * *

><p>He snarled. The calm façade that he had been holding up on his features faded into a twisted expression of pure fury and it terrified her. He lunged, his hands twitching of her skin being pounded towards every inch of her life. He wanted to <em>feel <em>the pain. He wanted to make her _hurt._

She dodged him with sloppy haste and tried to regain her balance, but he was too quick.

His leg swiped underneath hers as soon as she was about to launch another attack.

She fell onto the ground with a sickening crunch.

His eyes glowed furiously, staring at her battered form below him. He screamed in his thoughts, _get up! Get up! Come and fight me you stupid little, snotty Puff!_ She was giving in far too easily; he knew she lasted longer than this. She was distracted—and her divided mind was affecting his greatly. He needed her to focus; punching the living daylights out of one another demanded pure utter concentration—one that he craved for; especially at the given time.

His language quickly turned crude when she groaned in pain and gave no indication from ever moving from her uncomfortable position. His hand reached down and grabbed her stiffly from the neck—and with all his might (with a full 360 degree-turn) he threw her like a rag doll; watching her fly like a lifeless mop, and fall to the other end of the car park with an even sounder thump; her limps flying and flapping uselessly to the gravel underneath them.

She was bleeding. Her forehead above her right eye was cut open, blood gushing out like a powerful waterfall. But she still gave no intention of losing this fight. This has gone on for long enough. Her throat was dry, dust gathered her gullet—but she wasn't finished yet.

Shakily, she willed herself to stand. Her arms and legs feeling like jelly—the hopelessness of the fight came rushing at her. She wasn't going to get out easily; her counterpart was far too bemused with anger to let her go.

He grinned sadistically at her, his previous anger forgotten, "Aw there's my girl—never runnin' from a fight. C'mon Red, show me what you're made of."

She glared and spat out blood from her mouth. Her counterpart, watched with great interest, she was battered and bruised to the bone. Yet—she held her chin and eyes up through the blood and high; and assumed a fighting stance.

"There's a reason I like fightin' with you Bloss—you never run."

"We'll see who's running in a second _Brick_." She said, sneering his name.

"Oh ho—confident are ya'? Good—I like ma' girls feisty."

"There's no way in hell that I would ever be classified under _'your girl'_, dickhead." She spat back with venom.

His grin turned wolfish, "Well, well, well, look out world, be gotta' badass here. I guess I should expect that, comin' from a girl like you. Who knows what you're up ta, when no one's lookin'?"

Her eyes hardened at his words, and his eyes glinted with wicked amusement. No one could fathom the amount of anger she held underneath her calm, cool exterior—but he brought out the worst in her. She could understand perfectly why it was as it is; they were counterparts. Built that way in which they would always be at another—angry, raging and never stopping. She wondered hopelessly if their endless battle would continue forever. But his insufferable grin brought her out of her bitter musings.

She charged with a furious battle cry, her aims set to kill.

He laughed psychotically, dodging her punches and kicks with graceful efficiency.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth was their never-ending cycle. Their fights were different—different compared to their brothers and sisters. Butch and Buttercup were ferocious, dangerous and never held any back—they fought like mindless drones, ready to incinerate the other as soon as the chance applied itself. Butch and Buttercup were unpredictable, unstable and willing to set another for the kill. They attacked like animals, clawing at one other and always throwing—never planning.

Bubbles and Boomer was quite the different story. Those two fought cautiously, very sly and much planned. They never punched or kicked unless it was absolutely necessary, they preferred to attack with calm, cool minds—one precise blast there and another well-aimed scream right back. Graceful, they looked from outside. Almost as if they were two different performances on a stage, and it was difficult to concentrate on one because who knew that was other was about to do?

Brick and Blossom fought like dancers. Their fights resulted as: punch, dodge, kick, and swerve, punch, dodge, kick, and swerve with the occasional blast or ice-burst. Their attacks were planned, but not too planned so that they would be caught off guard easily. They were cautious with their attacks, but time to time the animal inside them reached out for the occasional attack of stupidity that was more taken with frustration then to attack the opponent.

Brick's elbow burst through Blossom's stomach—and she fell onto the gravel once more.

There was no denying the fact that this time, Blossom was down for good.

He could've killed her right then. He could've blasted her heart and ended their endless rage of battle forever. He could've sent her sisters and father heartbroken with grief—he could've destroyed the Powerpuff Girls forever. He could've fulfilled his ever longing desire to rid himself of the annoyance of Blossom ever since he had been five years old.

He could've done it.

But he didn't.

He only set her body upright, her arms and legs neatly tucked to her sides, her head facing the sky and her hair out of her closed eyes. With one last look—he took off. He knew they would find her, as they always did; unconscious and defeated but always in the same careful position.

Always the same, after every fight.

* * *

><p>AN: Review you sods! Even I don't get what the whole ending was about, but who cares anyway? XD

_PhantomPotterGirl_


End file.
